One war. Two Sisters. One end.
There is no running from it. Fate shall have its way as both daughters of Stormband take to the field of battle. Each with one goal - vengeance.
Approximately 130k words.
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Anger is possibly the most deadly of all emotions. Those who wield it with abandon are not likely to ever be kind, even for a moment. And those who fail to see this shall be the first to be consumed by those who lead with its unbridled power.
Lord Duusk of High Caann
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The crowd rose into an explosive and unified chant of approval. Seven Imperial soldiers, linked wrist to wrist on a long heavy chain, were escorted out on to the bare earthen floor of the arena. The prisoners were far less enthused at the situation than the throngs awaiting the display they would soon be forced to put on.
Governor Farust's box of honor was front row and center to the soon to commence festivities. Appearing to have been hastily constructed, it consumed the wooden benches used for seating all throughout the arena some ten spaces across and six rows back. The only portion of the seating for the battleground to be covered, a cloth stretched overhead had seen better days. Now it sported holes in haphazard locations and its dye was faded from remaining out in the beating sun.
Despite seating for over fifty, however, only Ola and the six out of towners who had recently come seeking her help were occupying the space. The region's governor struck an almost regal pose, standing and waving to the crowd while at the same time egging on their enthusiasm for carnage.
"Come on!" she cried out to the packed house surrounding them. The assembled throng was already booing quite boisterously at the men being marched around on display in the pit below them. "Show these Imperial scum what we really think of them!"
With that, the cat calls grew and continued while anyone in possession of rotten fruit and vegetables began hurling said garbage at the reluctant performers. Some actually struck the chained soldiers with varying degrees of reaction. But most fell well short or were wildly off target.
Sheala noted how none of the soon to be combatants really looked all that different from anyone else who may have been present. There was nothing about them that outwardly spoke to them being "Imperial scum." Aside, that was, from looking like they had been manhandled fairly roughly and regularly for however long they had been in captivity. Just unlucky soldiers who apparently drew the shortest straw in life and were at the wrong place at the wrong time.
